


i won't apologise (for the fire in my eyes)

by theworldabouttodawn



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Brandon "Ballsy" Ballard, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Eric Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Nathan "Noose" Galloway, featuring some original falconers including:, i love my hockey sons, this is pure fluff btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 07:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8318959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldabouttodawn/pseuds/theworldabouttodawn
Summary: alyosha decides to come out, or: five times alexei told his teammates about his boyfriend (and the one time someone told him)





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from zedd & kesha's "true colors" because i'm terrible at titles

_one: snowy._

If there’s anyone he’s going to come out to first, it’s his best friend on the team. Honestly, though, being a goalie, there’s a pretty damn good chance that Snowy already knows that Alyosha is – not straight, he supposes. What he’ll bet good money on, however, is that Snowy has no idea who Alyosha is dating.

“I date Kent Parson,” he announces suddenly in between rounds of Call of Duty, late one night when they both should already be in bed but tape just got so _boring_.

Snowy immediately exits to the main menu, takes a long drag of his beer, and glares at him. “You couldn’t have prefaced that with something like ‘oh, by the way, I’m not straight’ or whatever?”

“Wasn’t important before boyfriend,” Alyosha shrugs.

“Wasn’t important before – Tater, oh my _god_ , you don’t know, do you? You never figured it out?” Snowy asks nonsensically.

Alyosha most definitely knows that he’s not straight, thank you very much, he established that a long time ago, _that’s the point of this conversation_. “I figure out, that’s why I tell you!” he insists.

Snowy rolls his eyes, flopping his head back onto the couch. “Jesus fucking Christ, you dumbfuck, I had the biggest thing for you when you were first drafted, but I told myself you were _very fucking straight!_ ”

Taken aback by this (he can say with certainty that until he met Kent and witnessed _his_ eyeliner game, Snowy’s eyeliner had never ceased to _fuck him up_ ), Alyosha stammers and starts and finally manages a, “But what about Kaylin?”

“Oh, I got over you eventually, came to my senses and realised that you were ‘straight’ and therefore unattainable,” Snowy answers, waving a dismissive hand. “Enough about me though, how the fuck did you and _Parson_ end up together?”

Alyosha breathes a relieved sigh and starts telling the story.

* * *

_two: ballsy._

His captain shouldn’t be hard. Brandon Ballard did one of those You Can Play spots a few years back and has been talking about getting a Falconers delegation to march in Rhode Island Pridefest, so Alyosha is definitely not nervous about coming out to Ballsy at all. Of course he isn’t. Why would he be?

“Hey, Ballsy, can talk after practice?” he says nervously during morning skate one day.

Ballsy pauses in his heckling of Marty and his old bones to look at him in surprise. “Sure,” he responds, mildly puzzled. “Want to grab lunch? There’s a new sandwich place by my house I’ve been meaning to try out.”

“Sound good,” Alyosha responds, and spends the rest of practice trying his best to keep his mind off the upcoming conversation by doing his best to _fuck Snowy up_ during the shootout drills.

Snowy is not happy.

Alyosha does not care.

Scoring an obscene number of goals on his best friend in increasingly ridiculous ways never fails to cheer him up, so he’s lost most of his apprehension by the time he pulls out of the parking lot and follows Ballsy’s Lexus to a cute little café.

Ballsy gives him time to work up to the purpose behind the lunch date, suggesting new combinations of defencemen for their game against the Bruins tomorrow. Alyosha insists that they keep Noose and Poots together, at least for this game because “they not used to playing with other people, so give them more time to adjust. Maybe against Sabres or Leafs. Not Boston.”

“Maybe not Boston,” Ballsy agrees. “But what about the Canes?”

“Canes in a week, right?” Alyosha double-checks. “Might work. We try.”

The casual small talk continues for another few minutes, Ballsy apparently content to just let Alyosha work up to it in his own time. Finally, deciding that he really can’t wait any longer, he blurts out, “Kent Parson is my boyfriend.”

Ballsy continues to chew thoughtfully on his sandwich. Finally, he says carefully, “Thank you for telling me. How long have you two been together?”

“Six month, maybe?” Alyosha guesses. “Long enough.”

His captain _hmm_ s, considering the situation. “We’ve played the Aces three times since then and won two of those games. Just don’t let it affect the way you play, okay?”

“Okay,” Alyosha responds. “If anything, make me more competitive.”

Ballsy rolls his eyes. “And _that_ , Tater, is an example of _too much information_.”

* * *

_three: thirdy._

They’re settling into the hotel late one night after a fairly easy game and a couple rounds of drinks, everyone buzzing high and energetic despite the long day and late hour. Thirdy claims first shower in spite of Alyosha’s protests (and slightly more inebriated state), so in retaliation Alyosha hides his toothbrush and toothpaste and Skypes Kent.

“Hey, babe,” Kent says lazily when he appears on the screen, sprawled on his bed and covered in cat fur. “Nice job tonight. You looked good.”

“Yes, yes, I know, where cat? Want know if Kit miss me like I miss her,” Alyosha responds, grinning.

Kent stretches luxuriously, shirt riding up to show a tantalising strip of skin. “Probably under the sofa. Sorry, guess she doesn’t love you. You’re stuck with me tonight.”

“Oh, well, suppose I manage,” Alyosha says, eyes tracking the hem of his boyfriend’s shirt. “Is okay, love you more anyway.”

Smile turning soft, Kent leans into the camera, a hand partially extended towards his computer screen. “Good, because I love you too.”

Before Alyosha can respond, the bathroom door unlocks and Thirdy comes out in a cloud of steam. “Oh! Kent, this best d-partner in the world, Thirdy Robinson. Terrible roommate. Thirdy, this –”

Thirdy cuts him off, looking supremely unimpressed. “Kent Parson, captain of the Vegas Aces, I know. Why’re you talking?”

Freezing up, Alyosha’s eyes flicker to the computer screen, as if searching for guidance. Kent nods at him, solemn, so he takes a deep breath and says, “Kent and me, we dating. Didn’t want tell you like this, had plan, but…” he trails off, gesturing helplessly.

“…but I walked in at the wrong time,” Thirdy finishes. “Well, Tater, as long as this doesn’t get in way of your game, it’s none of my business. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Alyosha processes this for a moment, scrambled brain not doing too well with the whole English thing, finally coming up with something along the lines of “Is okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Thirdy shrugs. Then, presumably realising the inherent problems with his statement, he hastens to add, “You’re my friend. I wouldn’t – it doesn’t matter to me. We’re still a team.”

“Still team,” Alyosha repeats. “Thanks, Thirdy.”

Kent cuts in here with a huge yawn and a _mrrrrowl,_ which actually stems from Kit wandering into the room. “Kit’s here to say goodnight, so I guess I will too. Nice ta meet you, Robinson.”

“Nice to meet you too, Parson,” Thirdy says offhandedly, wandering back to his suitcase and leaving the two of them relatively alone.

“You going to bed for real?” Alyosha asks. “But you two hours behind me! And Kit only just arrive!”

“For real,” Kent confirms. “Got a really fucking early flight tomorrow. ‘Night, Alyosha.”

Alyosha sighs. “Goodnight, Kit, Kenechka. Я тебя люблю.”

“Love you too,” Kent sighs, and then the picture cuts out.

Tossing his laptop on the other side of the bed, he settles under the covers and hears Thirdy exclaim from the other side of the room, “Where the fuck is my toothbrush?” Grinning to himself, Alyosha rolls over and pretends to go to sleep.

* * *

_four: the other old guys._  

No one understands why Alyosha lumps himself in with the “old guys” so much when he’s barely half their age (okay, and maybe he shouldn’t have said that in front of them because, _yes, he knows, that was a joke, Jesus, Guy, put stick down_ ). Alyosha himself likes to think that it’s because he’s been with the Falconers for so long that he identifies the closest with the guys who have been with the team just as long, albeit coming on trades from the Avs or Wild or something, but they’ve been Falconers for so long that it feels like forever.

So that’s what makes this so hard for Alyosha, more so than anything else. These guys are his family, and while he technically knows that they’ll accept him no matter what, years and years of internalised homophobia and fear make him nervous enough that he could swear he sees his hands shaking when he sits down with them for breakfast one day before morning skate.

The others don’t seem to pick up on it at all, however, aside from Thirdy giving him a knowing look (and that’s only because Alyosha’s already told him his plans for today. Guy throws out a “hey, fancy seeing you around here, Tater, we thought you finally realised you were too old for us!” and Alyosha swipes a strawberry slice from him in retaliation.

“So what’s been going on?” Marty asks. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Alyosha steels himself, seeing his opening. “Busy. With – with – something. That I want to tell about.” His courage fails him here, however, and he resorts to cutting into his waffle (that’s definitely not on his diet plan, but he deserves it and no one here is gonna tattle on him, anyways), searching for the words.

“Tater?” Marty prods gently after he’s taken a bite. “You were saying?”

He grumpily takes another bite, chewing and swallowing slowly before responding, “Wanted to tell you that I – well, you know Kent Parson, yes?”

Guy sighs audibly. “Yes, Tater, of course we know Kent Parson. Everyone knows Kent fucking Parson. Why did you bring him up?”

Alyosha gulps, taking a long swig of water. “Well, Kent and I – we – we’re date, okay? I’m date Kent Parson, and – ” Not knowing how to finish his sentence, he forks the last bit of syrup-drenched waffle into his mouth.

The silence at the table scares him. Maybe he misjudged the situation. Maybe the guys are old and conservative and don’t approve and think he’s a pervert or something and – “Explains a lot,” Guy tosses offhandedly. “No one else gets as excited to play the fucking Aces like you do.”

Marty notices the still-stricken look on Alyosha’s face and presumably swallows a chirp to lean over and reassure him. “Hey, Tater, it’s fine, it really is. Shit, you can even bring Parson to, like, family skate or something. We’d love to have him.”

Alyosha’s about to say something stupidly sappy and definitely chirp-worthy when Thirdy jumps in and saves his sorry ass. “As long as he isn’t a Boston fan.”

“He _Ace_ , why he ever be Boston fan? No one Boston fan who isn’t from Boston.”

* * *

_five: the not-rookies._

Alyosha’s not sure how he feels about Noose getting reassigned to his line. He loves the kid, of course – any wide-eyed rookie deserves all his love even if they’re no longer a rookie anymore, but he and Thirdy have been _good_ , there’s been nothing lacking in their performance, they’re consistently putting up points and keeping the puck away from Snowy. Hell, they have a plus/minus of +15 at this point in the season; it doesn’t really make sense to suddenly switch up the defence pairings when they’re doing so well.

At the same time, however, Noose is _fast_ , flying across the ice as if he’s got fucking rockets in his skates or something, and Alyosha is enchanted by the way he just gets where he needs to be whenever he needs to be there. And okay, he’d never say it to his face, but Thirdy’s _old_.

Anyways, Alyosha is probably the more pleased of the two about the switch. Noose plays well enough to his right, connecting with passes and guarding the puck just fine, but Alyosha can sense the longing emanating from him whenever Poots and Thirdy are on the ice. 

They need to have a talk.

Alyosha invites Noose out for dinner when they get back to Pittsburgh, riding on the high of a three-point game and wanting to actually, y’know, _be friends_ with his new linemate.

And Noose, for some goddamned reason, hesitantly asks, “This – this isn’t a _date_ , is it?”

“Is liney date, Noosey,” Alyosha responds, half-jokingly.

“Okay, well, that’s – that’s good, I guess? Not that I have anything against being gay, not at all,” Noose hastens to add. “That is, if you were gay, which I don’t want to assume or anything. I just – um, well, I’ve never really had to bond with a linemate, I guess. Didn’t really need to bond with lineys until the Q, and it’s been Fitzy since then.”

Alyosha cheerfully slings an arm against Noose’s shoulders, carefully disregarding the suspicion arising from his immediate mental leap to _date_. There’s no way he could possibly know about him and Kent. Noose is a _child_. He knows nothing.

Anyways, they get to dinner, and Noose is still acting weird. He should _definitely_ be over being star-struck by now – he’s been a Falconer for a season and a half now – but Alyosha can’t figure out what else could possibly be wrong. So, with typical Russian tact, he up and says, “You miss Poots?”

Noose’s face crumples up (and Alyosha would bet good money that he has no idea he’s doing that). “I _hate_ that nickname, god, it’s so stupid.”

But he doesn’t offer anything more, so Alyosha adds, “Pair bond special, right? But less special here in NHL. Put you with who you play best, not who you like best.”

“I – well –” Noose stumbles over his words, just like always, and finally stammers out, “Fitzy and I – it’s weird, okay? Like we have this – this _connexion_ , of some sort, and I just don’t know what it’s like to be with anyone that’s not him. I don’t remember. But I like him, I like playing with him, and I think I play best with him. Is that wrong?” He looks up, challengingly, and Alyosha’s heart breaks in the same instant his brain makes a split-second gut decision.

“Is okay, Noose,” he croons. “Is okay to like other little rookie. Even is okay – is okay to like other not-little not-rookie, even not a Falconer.”

Noose leans back now, thankfully no longer on the defensive, and crosses his arms. “Tater, are you trying to tell me something?”

Alyosha takes a deep breath. He was planning on coming out to the rest of the team soon anyways, and if this news could possibly help out this little Noose, it’s worth it. “Yes. I like Kent Parson. I _date_ Kent Parson.”

Letting out a huge sigh, Noose seems to unwind, pulling out his phone quickly and asking, “Can I – can I text Fitzy that? That you’re, well, _gay_? Or bi, or whatever you identify as, but I think he’d like that. He’d like knowing that there’s someone – on the team.”

And Alyosha doesn’t know what else to do but clarify, “Am bisexual. Like both guys and girls” and give his assent, still refusing to speculate about the nature of the rookies’ relationship.

But Noose’s face has lit up, suddenly, and he taps away on his phone, saying, “Man, Tater, thanks – thanks so much for telling me, trusting me with this. I promise I won’t – won’t tell a soul. Besides – Fitzy, that is, sorry, that’s okay, right?”

All in all, Alyosha considers the linemate bonding quite a success, even if they end up losing to Tampa Bay by a single shootout goal the next day (because that doesn’t even count). And, well, if he sees Noose and Poots leaving together afterwards, heads close and Poots shooting a curious and maybe grateful glance at him, who’s he to tell?

* * *

_plus one: zimmboni._

He’s heading to his car after morning skate one day, looking forward to the frozen pelmeni in his fridge that his mother had left for him, when Zimmboni appears and corners him in the hallway. “Hey, Zimmboni, what’s up?” he asks.

In response, he gets a phone screen shoved in his face. It’s a Galaxy Note 7, and he idly makes a note to tell Zimmboni that those _explode_ , but is further distracted by what’s on the screen. “Kent told me y’all were dating,” Zimmboni says and then winces visibly at the _y’all_.

Alyosha grins. “Yes, is true! We date for eight months now! Kenechka _best_ ,” and he almost freezes up at using the endearment in front of someone who, well, it’s not meant for, but Zimmboni looks like he just won the damn lottery or something, so.

Putting the phone away (he really needs to get educated about that _bomb_ , shit fuck), Zimmboni suddenly goes all serious and says, “You take care of him, okay?”

And Alyosha nods, because he’s heard the rumours about Zimmboni and Kent back in juniors, just like everyone else. But the Kent Parson he’s dating is no longer the Kenny of 2008, Zimmboni’s Kenny, but Alyosha’s Kenechka, and he’ll protect him with his life. He could never hurt Kent Parson, and he knows it.

Zimmboni nods once, like they’ve just signed a contract or something. Alyosha’s about to leave, ready to make his goodbyes, when suddenly he hears, “Um, Tater? I – well, I don’t have a girlfriend either.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, hmu on [tumblr](http://www.olllmaatta.tumblr.com%22) if you want to cry about patater, the pittsburgh penguins, or connor mcdavid with me (or anything else really i'm open to intersectional sobbing)


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